


A Trip to Morocco

by EldritchSandwich



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, First Time, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexy Sandwich, Summer Scorcher 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchSandwich/pseuds/EldritchSandwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka returns the favor and finds out that giving can be every bit as good as receiving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trip to Morocco

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Femslash Revolution's Summer Scorcher 2016 event, for the prompt "Like french kissing (but not your mouth)"

Myka draws in a breath. Here goes nothing.

She looks up at Helena to find the dark-haired woman smiling down at her, still stroking her hair. "Are you ready, darling?" Myka nods hesitantly.

"Yeah. I mean...I want to. And you deserve it, and...I really, really want to, so..."

Helena laughs, uses her grip on Myka's hair to pull her up for a kiss. Myka's hands slide up to cup her breasts, thumbs expertly playing her nipples, and Helena moans softly into her mouth. "You worry too much," Helena murmurs against her lips. "I know you have to be perfect at everything the first time you try it—" Myka blushes and pouts just a little because no one's ever summed her up that succinctly before "—but believe me when I say I have every confidence in you." Helena favors her with a roguish grin. "I already know you can do amazing things with your tongue..."

Myka blushes, and Helena laughs. The laugh turns into a hum of pleasure as Myka kisses her way down her throat, the slopes of her breast, the hollow of her navel, down to the line where her panties would sit if they weren't lying on the floor. Myka pauses there again, taking a deep breath and filling her nose with the rich, musky scent of Helena's pussy as she does. It doesn't smell bad. Not that she was worried, because Helena's smell has always driven her wild, but...well, she was still worried. She licks her lips; there her mind goes, running away with her again. She looks up, and Helena chuckles.

"You know what to do, darling. Just think of it as Moroccan kissing."

Myka eyebrows rise. "What?"

Helena smirks. "You know: French...but farther south."

Myka blinks. Then she's laughing. "Oh my god! How long have you been waiting to use that line?"

Helena's smile softens, her eyes shining with unspoken affection. "My entire life."

Myka feels her heart lurch; how is it Helena can do that, make some joke at her expense and then blindside her with such raw emotion it almost hurts? It's the first time she said 'I love you' all over again.

"I love you," Myka whispers, then leans in and presses a kiss just above Helena's clit. The hand in her hair pauses a moment, then starts stroking again, urging her downward. Just like before she moves her kisses down, but this time she pulls back and gasps when she feels Helena's wetness on her lips. She's tasted it before, from her fingers after Helena rides them, but this is so utterly different. When she pulls back, the sight really hits her; she knew from the first bath bomb how enthusiastic Helena is about twenty-first century advances in hygeine, but until the first time they saw each other naked she had no idea that HG Wells was a Brazilian wax kind of girl. But now here they are and Myka can see everything, the plump lips of Helena's sex slick and pink and open, as if begging for her tongue.

Myka sticks it out gently, running the tip between Helena's folds, and she's rewarded by a wet heat, a quick gasp, and the hand in her hair pressing her in tighter. She licks again, and again, deeper each time, each time lingering a little longer on the dainty hood at the top of the slit, and after the fifth pass Helena's hips start grinding gently down against the bed. "Mm, yes, darling," Helena pants, "use your whole mouth. Suck..."

Myka obeys without hesitation, pursing her lips and sucking gently on Helena's clit, then more forcefully as Helena squirms under her. From here Helena's smell is even stronger, and she can't resist sliding back down to stick her tongue even deeper into the tight, hot folds, another shock of Helena's flowing honey encouraging her that she's not completely clueless. She thinks about all the times Helena's done this for her, all the things that made her scream and gasp and arch off the bed, and she tries to reproduce them as best she can, swiping and sucking and spelling letters of the alphabet with her tongue—she's sure she read that somewhere—and Helena's flowing into her mouth and grinding against her face and making Myka's own sex clench with need. She reaches down to rub herself with one hand, but the other comes up to pull apart Helena's lips and let her sink deeper, and when she does that Helena squeals.

"Fuck, Myka," Helena gasps, and Myka spasms against her own fingers because Helena almost never swears, only when she's about to come, "put them inside, suck me, I..." Her sentence trails off into breathy moaning as Myka complies, two fingers pushing in and curling up to the spongy, sensitive spot she's gotten damn good at finding, her lips kissing back up to wrap around Helena's clit, sucking the entire area into her mouth only to flick it with her tongue as she does, and Helena sucks in a long, gasping breath. _This is it_ , Myka thinks, and it is, because suddenly Helena's moaning and pulling Myka's head against her with both hands, and Myka takes the cue and pulls out her fingers and slides down her mouth just in time for Helena to gush into it. Myka groans against Helena's slit, the taste and the force and the raw power of making Helena come driving her over the edge on her own fingers. She has no idea how long they stay like that, Helena spasming and squirting into her mouth as her own nectar drips down her thighs. When their orgasms finally do subside, Myka forces herself up on shaky legs, pushing herself just far enough to collapse on top of Helena for a long, deep, ravenous kiss. Helena sucks her tongue, swallows her own honey, then lets her head drop back to the bed with an exhausted, self-satisfied smirk.

"Well, darling. What's the verdict?"

Myka grins. "I think I like Morocco. I might just visit again some time soon."

Helena laughs. "Oh, you absolutely will." Her smirk turns wolfish, her thigh pressing between Myka's to feel the wetness. "But next time," she growls, "we're going together."

As Helena rolls her over for another kiss, the possibilities fill Myka's head. Her next trip to to Morocco, she decides, can't come soon enough.


End file.
